Honey apologized
for her heart.
All kinds of trouble
it would start.
All her life,
she loved too much;
her mother often
repeated such,
not comprehending how a girl
could get her heart in such a whirl,
so twisted 'round another's finger --
one who would neither love nor linger.
Perhaps it was a father thing,
a search for a dad who would make her heart sing,
looking high and low for a strong, worthy hero --
heartbroken after batting zero.
Honey once tried not loving at all
and felt over her life a terrible pall
like death warmed over -- no pain, and no joy --
much better she felt pining over a boy.
So Honey reclaimed her runaway heart,
displeasing others more cunning and smart,
others who preferred staying wary and alone
over daring to love when the sun next shone.
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